


Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

by Antiquity



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Familiars, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:33:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9867062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antiquity/pseuds/Antiquity
Summary: After signing the receipt for the eighth delivery of ibis eyes this month, Clark put his foot down.In which Clark is out of patience, Alfred is long-suffering, Bruce is his usual self until he isn't, and the world isn't actually in any danger after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I found this little nonsense ficlet in a folder that was probably around when the dinosaurs were, and since it made me grin I thought it might amuse someone else too :)

After signing the receipt for the eighth delivery of ibis eyes this month, Clark put his foot down. Bruce nodded and hummed appropriately in all the right places and labelled glass vials as his potions partner listed in detailed length all the many reasons the mage should curtail his somewhat illegal ventures and go out into the sunlight for a while, and then reached for the conical flask of sea-serpent blood stirred thrice with a raven’s feather.

“Do you think this is midnight-sky blue, or iron-heart black?”

Clark whacked him over the head with a sheaf of parchment and retreated. His work on the properties of sunlight diffused through different gemstones was almost complete and the Consortium was already very pleased with the results; if his potions partner got arrested and thrown into the darkest pit of the Doomed Dungeons for practicing necromancy, Clark could kiss his full scholarship to study in the sunlight-spinning caverns of Heliopolis goodbye.

Alfred, Bruce’s eternal butler, just sighed.

“Well, can’t you do something?”

“What can I do, Master Clark? Forbid him from entering his workshop? Hide his lexicons? Throw out all his quills?”

Throwing his hands up, Clark paced agitatedly back and forth in front of the fire, which flickered blue and red in greeting. “I don’t know, but knowing Bruce if he thinks there’s a chance he can go the whole way he will, just to see if he can!”

“While I do of course enter into your feelings on the subject,” Alfred said, pouring the distraught mage a cup of ogre-grass tea, “have you considered the benefits?”

Clark choked on his drink. “You think there’s a positive side to the Realm’s most powerful Dark Mage summoning a familiar?”

Alfred gazed pensively into the fire, which decided to dignify the occasion with ominous purple sparks. “A familiar balances and anchors a mage’s magic: I believe that should Master Bruce elect to summon one, he will become more stable.”

“Um, Alfred, far be it from me to tell the Keeper of the Wayne Archives his business, but have you considered the fact that Bruce will become even more powerful with a familiar to anchor his magic?”

“He will, of course, but the tenets of magic state that for every energy there is an equal and opposite force. Logically, therefore, the familiar who responds to the summoning will be the antithesis of Master Bruce. Thus, the contract will balance him, soothe his anger, tame his rage, and harness his power for the better.”

Clark stared at the butler. “If he thinks he can perfect necromancy with a familiar by his side to amplify his power, you know he will attempt it.”

“He will summon a familiar whether we approve or not, Master Clark. I choose to put my faith in any immortal being who can put up with Master Bruce.”

The immortal being, perched on the edge of Bruce’s desk as he attempted to scrub away a runic circle drawn on the scorched flagstones of the laboratory floor a week later, blinked curiously at Alfred and Clark as they slammed into the room. Drawn by the flash of lightning, crack of thunder, and acrid scent of a feather-based potion set on fire, the butler and the mage gaped at the slender young man and then swiftly averted their eyes, Clark blushing a vivid red. He was human in appearance except for the red, gold, green and black feathers that lined his hairline, mingled with his hair and spilled down his spine, and was completely, unselfconsciously naked.

“Ah, there you are. Alfred, Clark, meet my familiar. He tells me his name is unpronounceable in any human tongue but considers Richard to be the closest approximation.” Bruce glanced up from cleaning the floor, the fresh bonding scars livid up his right forearm.

“They’ll fade to a nice silver once they’re healed,” ‘Richard’ assured the onlookers, still frozen on the threshold, once he noticed what they were staring at.

“Until then, we have some testing to do of the parameters of our Contract,” Bruce said, throwing his long black cloak over his shoulders and fastening it with his batlike insignia before handing another one to his familiar. “Come, Richard. We might as well get you some clothes while we’re at it.”

“Human clothes are so confining,” the familiar complained, hopping off the table and strolling after Bruce with a jaunty spring in his step.

“We’re doomed,” Clark managed, watching Richard whisper coyly into Bruce’s ear as they rounded the corner.

Actually, it turned out that the world was not in peril, from resurrected wraiths or otherwise. Bruce had little energy for the Dark Arts, which had always required a heftier physical toll than the Lore of Light, once Richard entered his life: the familiar was extremely acrobatic, irresistibly charming, disdainful of human clothes, and absolutely devoted to testing the limits of Bruce’s restraint.

After walking in on them having sex for the fifth time in the anatomy section of the Manor’s library, Clark and Alfred put their feet down. Bruce nodded and hummed in all the right places and kissed his way down Richard’s graceful neck as his butler and his potions partner described all the attractions of a bed behind closed, lockable doors, and then reached for his concealment spell as Richard stroked his hands up the inside of Bruce’s thighs.

 


End file.
